WINNERS WILL BE CHOSEN AT THE END OF MAY -- GRAND PRIZE WINNER GETS 2 PIZZAS DELIVERED TO THEIR WORK OR HOME -- 2ND PLACE WINNER GETS ONE PIZZA -- MAYBE OTHER PEOPLE WILL GET STUFF TOO, I JUST HAVEN'T FIGURED THAT OUT YET.

I gave up my seat on the train this morning to a woman with a cane. Does that mean I get to cane someone?

On this week's HBO preshow thingy for Game of Frones, there was no disclaimer for "NUDITY," not even one for "BRIEF NUDITY" or "BRIEF NUDE HOSIERY," and yet it was still an enjoyable hour of television.

After seeing this, my wife claimed, "Well, there's no reason to watch this now," (and she was serious) AND SHE WAS WRONG. For the first time in our seven-year relationship, MY WIFE WAS WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING. So in honor of this momentous occassion in our marriage, for the first time ever on TVMWW -- I'm going to discuss the actual television program as opposed to boobs, butts and other boobs and butts.

So Smoke Baby/Guy can just slide under peoples' doors (/tents) and stab people? This is not only ridiculous but UNFAIR. How are you supposed to defend against Smoke Baby/Guy? It's like Gasol and Bynum, UNSTOPPABLE.

I guess this is why cartoon dogs are always telling us to check our smoke alarms. I know I checked ours last night. I don't want no stinkin' Smoke Baby/Guy stabbing me or my wife (or my fish) in the middle of the night. Then again, a smoke alarm isn't gonna really keep a Smoke Baby/Guy from stabbing anyone, it's just gonna give you a proper warning of when you're gonna get stabbed. So how do you possibly stop a smoke baby/guy?

Can anything defeat smoke?

YES!

AIR!

(I don't actually know if air can defeat smoke, but I do know that whenever I try to make grilled cheese, I need to open up all the windows and turn on the fan above the stove and that normally does the trick.)

Move over Snoop, this dude's the original Smoke Dog!

What these Game of Frones guys need is one of those air guns that the guy from No Country for Old Men had. Air guns can't be too hard to make. Then, they can just stand around and wait for the Smoke Baby/Guy to come back and then WAIL him with air shots!

THIS IS THE SMARTEST THING I'VE EVER COME UP WITH IN MY LIFE.

WHERE WAS THIS DURING MY 4th GRADE SCIENCE FAIR?!

I'M PRETTY SURE I TRIED TO MAKE A BATTERY OUT OF A SHOE.

IT DIDN'T WORK!

Interesting that this guy tucks his shirt in.

I don't think Arya is gonna use one of her three kill wishes on Smoke Baby/Guy. The first one was obviously a test -- like, "Okay, Mr. Stacey London Streaked Hair Guy, if you're really gonna kill someone, kill that guy who set up the rat torture thing." Now, she's got two more kill wishes, and I'm pretty sure she's gonna use 'em on Cersei and Joffrey.

My wife (who actually pays attention to the show) told me that a few weeks ago, when Arya was going to sleep one night, she kept whispering Cersei and Joffrey's names, praying that they'd be killed. I sort of remember that, but honestly have no idea who Cersei and Joffrey are.

Plus, Arya looked the oldest Lannister guy dead in the eye and said, "Anyone can be killed," a little bit of good ole fashioned foreshadowing.

Quick segue about foreshadowing / The Wire / Spoiler Alert if you've never seen The Wire. And if you've never seen The Wire, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

Do you remember a scene early on in the show (maybe season 3 or 4) when there were some kids playing in the street, pretending to be hustlers and waiving around guns and they were like, "I wanna be Avon!" "I wanna be Omar!" "No, I wanna be Omar!" Well, one of those kids was Kenard who went onto kill Omar in Season 6. Another time, they showed Kenard torturing a cat, which is an early sign of being a sociopath.

Which leads to the obvious next question: if YOU were given three kill wishes, who would you choose to be killed?

It's a tougher question that you'd think. Obviously, the first thought that comes to your mind is probably that little d-head from middle school who made fun of you, but is that kid really worth a kill wish? That kid (aka Me) is probably already a pathetic loser who can never find matches to his socks and has stray hairs sprouting out of his shoulders like crazy. What makes this decision even more difficult is that these people are going to DIE -- and they may have parents or children or siblings or fish that count on them.

Regardless, here are my three people who I would choose to die if I was ever given three kill wishes.

1. Shawn Bradley

Look at the look on that coach's face! He's completely stupefied!

Just 'cause he was SO BAD at basketball and ruined so many enjoyable basketball games for so many people. There were countless times when I'd watch Shawn Brads and just SCREAM at the television, like, "HOW ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS GAME? WHY ARE YOU ON THE GROUND AGAIN? PLEASE GET UP. I DIDN'T EVEN SEE ANYONE KNOCK YOU OVER. THERE'S NO ONE WITHIN FIFTEEN FEET OF YOU! HOW IS IT TAKING YOU SO LONG TO GET UP? UGGGHHH, THE ENTIRE TEAM IS BACK ON DEFENSE AND YOU'RE STILL PLODDING BACK DOWNCOURT? NOW WE'RE GOING THE OTHER WAY! OH MY GOD! TRAVELING? JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY! JUST KILL YOURSELFFFFFFFFFFFF!"

I know it sounds horrible that I wish THAT HE WAS DEAD, but this is a hypothetical exercise!

Next guy!

2. Alex Trebeck

I call it a "croissant," Alex -- not a "kwa-saun."

Let me make it clear that I don't WANT these people to die, but if I woke up tomorrow morning and read on Twitter that Alex Trebeck had died, I'd be like, "Nice." The man is just so smarmy and no, I don't actually know what "smarmy" means, but I think I'm using it correctly and if I wasn't, Alex would be sure to tell me how to use it properly and with proper inflection and possibly in a French accent.

3. People Who Hit the "Door Close" Button in Elevators

Thanks dude, couldn't wait that extra 1.3 seconds, could ya?

This one is the least rational of my kill wishes, because I don't know why this bothers me so much and recognize that most people enjoy using the "Door Close" button, but is it REALLY saving you any time people? I get in the elevator, I push my button, and then oh, I dunno, a second and a half later? the door closes. But "Door Close" button-pushers NEEEEED to save themselves that extra second and a half, 'cause they've got a biggggggg conference call on the 7th floor and God forbid they have to just stand there and wait for the doors to automatically close. Totally irrational, but I want them to die.

The easier question is WHO would you want to carry out your killing? My answer would definitely be that LezBot lady who was guarding WhatsHisFace when he got killed by the Smoke Baby/Guy. She is AWESOME. My wife mentioned that she wants to see her naked -- and when I probed her on this one, she just said that she wants to see her arms and her legs and her back, "'cause you know, who doesn't like to check out the human form?"

But I already know exactly what she'd look like naked -- a cross between Babe Didrickson Zaharias, Jane Fonda and Gorilla Monsoon.

I only had to ask ONE co-worker to help me crop these pics!

Imagine the three of them getting it on?

It could probably happen in Qarth.

That place is kinky as fuck.

Did you knowwwwwww that my fish, Franck Ribery Jr, has his own Twitter account?! @FribsJr -- you should follow him now! Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, check out these amazzzzzzingggggg air brushed Game of Frones t-shirts.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

My wife brought Franck home last week for my birthday. He's a betta fish. He currently lives in a bowl on our kitchen counter. Franck's hobbies include swimming.

We've been talking about getting a pet for quite some time. A dog is probably too much work, and I'm allergic to cats, but Franck Ribéry Jr. seems just right. Last night he did like 400 laps.

When we moved in together, my wife was forced to give up her two cats, Elliot and Jelly, which was sad. I liked Elliot and Jellz, even though they constantly made me sneeze. Elliot used to try to trip me when I walked by, but I knew it was out of love. Jelly would step on my face when I slept over. I didn't like that, but I understood. I have one of those faces that you just always want to step on. I've always felt baaaad that my wife had to give them up.

Franck is named after Franck Ribéry, the French international football star, who currently plays for Bayern Munich in the Bundesliga. Franck Sr. has an unbelievable haircut and two massive scars on his face, products of a car accident that he was in when he was two years old. Last week, during an argument at halftime, Franck Sr. punched a teammate right in his face. In Ribéry's defense, the guy that he slugged is a major dickwad.

Franck Jr. is doing very well in his new home, thanks for asking.

Tonight he is planning on going for a swim, and then going for another swim. Follow Franck on Twitter @FRibsJr.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

They say you're supposed to "write what you know," so apparently Matthew Weiner must know a lot about dropping LSD, giving guys handjobs and chasing his wife around their living room a la Edwin Moses.

This is Edwin Moses.

For the 98% of people who missed that one. I was trying to say that Don Draper was chasing Megan around like an olympic hurdler, jumping over stuff, having the utmost determination -- jokes are always awesome when you have to explain them.

So taking a page out of Weiner's book and writing about what I know, time to analyze last week's ep:

PEGGY TOTALLY GAVE THAT GUY A HANDJOB

Nice job by Peggy to unhitch that guy's belt in the dark. I have trouble taking off my own belt let alone some dude's that I just met in a movie theatre. Her technique was pretty juvenile though, north and south like Craig Ironhead Hayward as opposed to the jerk and twerk method of twisting at the end of the upward motion. She also probably should've spit on her hand (or on the guy's dork) instead of just gripping and ripping. Then again, considering she was blazed out, I imagine she was quite parched and unable to produce any saliva.

Other nicknames for Ironhead include "Dumptruck Head", "Iron Balls" and "Bowling Ball Balls."

I never realized how hot Roger's (ex)wife was. I was especially attracted to her the morning after their LSD trip, when she was physically and emotionally distraught. There's something super attractive about a woman when she's a basketcase. Like Lindsey Lohan or Chamique Holdsclaw.

We Got Next Handjob!

Once again, obligatory shot to explain the previous joke. Holdsclaw had a mental breakdown in 2007. C'mon people!

I looked at Roger's (ex)wife's profile on IMDB -- her name is Peyton List and that's pretty much the most interesting thing about her. Well, also, her father's name is Doug.

"Oh, hey there, have you met my father, Doug?"

How comfortable does that robe look?

Don was right that orange sherbet is delicious even though it has a really dumb spelling. After the episode, my wife was fired up, furious with Don for not apologizing to Megan. I don't know why chicks are so big on apologizing. Clearly Don was sorry, he showed that by chasing her around the apartment like a goddamn lunatic. Edwin Moses yo!

Whenever my wife pisses me off, I don't need her to apologize, I just need some sherbet!

MY WIFE: Hey Ev, I went to the movies this afternoon. Needed to blow off some steam.

ME: Cool, what'd you see?

MY WIFE: I jerked off some dude.

ME: Haven't heard of that one.

MY WIFE: No, I saw Chimpanzee, but I also jerked off some dude in the theatre. I'm sorry.

ME: Did you twist at the end?

MY WIFE: No, just gripped and ripped.

ME: Oh, big deal, I did that to like four dudes at the office today. Let's go get some sherbert.

MY WIFE: It's sherbet.

ME: I'm sorry.

Joe Budds, lemme see you jerk that, twerk that ...

I don't know how you get your TVMWW updates -- Facebork, Twitter, Google Reader -- but if you get that isht in your email, then you're sometimes missing out on stuff like embedded polls and videos. Part of me hates that email list thing, but another part of me appreciates any readers I can get. Who gives a shit, right? Check out this dope ventriloquist.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I truly appreciate modern amenities like running water and bowling, but is life in 2012 really that much better than back in Game of Frones-time?

While watching the Flyers game at my parents' house the other day, I went to the kitchen to get my father some carrot juice, stepped in some water, and returned with the wettest, floppiest sock ever. My day was ruined. My life was ruined. It didn't matter how soft the plush, fleece blanket wrapped around me was or how many Double Stuf (actual spelling) Oreos that I ate, I was more uncomfortable than any soaking wet soldier who protects any wall.

This past week on Game of Frones, some guys tortured prisoners by tying them up, putting a rat in a bucket and pressing that bucket against their chests. Then, they lit fire to the end of the bucket, forcing the rats to eat through the prisoners' chests in order to survive. It was cruel. It was unusual. It was pretty darn creative if you ask me, but was it really any worse than sitting through a power point presentation? Or being forced to go see your co-worker Neil's band play on a Tuesday night?

Let's let you decide:

Poll: Which torture is worse?

Thanks for ruining what could've been a lovely 3-way slut-session, Joff!

Later on in Sunday's episode, Joffrey thought it'd be erotic to watch one whore bludgeon another whore to death with a cane. It was sick. It was disturbing. But really not that much different from what the fine women of the Pumptown Tavern did to me the night of my bachelor party.

Last July, two grown women forced me to bend over (they didn't really force me, did they?) as they wailed on me with leather belts. (And they REALLY wailed.) To this day, people always tell me, "Wow, it looked like you were having such a great time at your wedding! You danced all night long!" But that's only because my ass was so sore that I couldn't sit down!

I would've loved a break!

I was so tired!

On Game of Frones, everyone has to carry gigantic, metal swords all over the place. So cumbersome. So heavy. But God forbid that I ever have to carry so much as a greeting card without asking my wife to put it in her purse. And why the freak are women so put out when we ask them to carry some of our stuff in their GIGANTIC bags? My wife currently has a "I will not carry any of your stuff in my purse" policy, even though it's starting to become shorts weather and I CANNOT have my cargo pockets weighed down with ANYTHING.

Game of Frones people don't have homes. They live nomadic lifestyles, camping out, sleeping in mud, fearing that zombie guys will eat them. I own a house in the suburbs with a ping pong table, but I also have so much weeding to do. Have you ever weeded? It's imposssssssible! You have to bend down the entire time and your back gets all stiff and you get dirt all over your shirt and stuff, and you know that saying "they really grow like weeds"? Well, weeds really grow like weeds!

I dunno, I think maybe life was easier in Game of Frones-time.

No one had to tuck in their shirts.

There was no low-fat sour cream.

Then again, there was also no Twitter. And that's no way to live.

OTHER QUICK THOUGHTS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH TORTURE:

- How 'bout that chick who sawed that guy's leg off?! She had so much blood on her!! And WhatsHisName was so turned on! And is that really how you spell "sawed"?

- I really wish this show didn't have the supernatural isht. Like, the Fire Lady who gave birth to that smoking smoke guy? What was that?!?! I can't stand that stuff. It allows the writers to do whatever they want.

WRITER GUY: Okay, I don't know how this scene should end.

OTHER WRITER GUY: What if we turn this guy into a platypus and have him drink a gallon of milk?

FIRST WRITER GUY: PERFECT!

That rat actually looks pretty cute.

Jose Canseco is totally worth following on Twitter by the way. You can watch firsthand as his life goes straight into the shitter. Follow him here. Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, check out this guy's tie made out of cheese.

Friday, April 20, 2012

So let's eavesdrop on Pete Campbell from Mad Men and the little guy from Game of Frones as they discuss last week's eps.

So that's certainly something. Once again, if you're getting this in your email, you gotta go to the site to watch the vid. If you wanna watch some short vids by an ACTUAL movie-maker, check out these 10 TV ads by Wes Anderson.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Ice holds up his finger to emphasize the number of minutes it takes for his wife to make an
entire grilled cheese sandwich between her ass cheeks.

When you grow up with parents who routinely call each other "Dr. Fuck" and "Droopy Tits McGee" you can't help but turn to television to find healthier models of what a marriage should look like.

From Ward and June Cleaver sleeping in separate beds, to Kourtney Kardashian and Scott Disick sleeping in separate beds, it's pretty clear that the key to a successful relationship is to stay as far away as possible from each other at all times.

But Ice T and Coco are living proof that married people can actually hang out together, have fun and not complain about one another in a blog that's very loosely disguised as television commentary. How do Ice and Coco make it work? What's their secret? Does Ice ever eat an entire eggplant parmesan off of Coco's ass? The answer is yes, of course he does. He'd be an idiot not to.

I predict this man will one day be the President of the United States.

During a recent interview on Watch What Happens Live (yes I watch it, and yes I love it), Coco told Andy Cohen that she always keeps a pair of high heels under her nightstand to keep things spicy in the boudoir. That way, if Ice ever wants to work on his cardio, all she has to do is slip 'em on and he can get in a good workout.

Interesting, because on her nightstand, my wife keeps a set of disgusting ear plugs so as not to have her precious beauty sleep interrupted by Mr. Hippopotamus Nose. Sometimes when I'm snoring (possibly to keep it spicy?), she'll forego the ear plugs and just kick me in the shins. She does this despite the fact that I've repeatedly told her, "Please don't kick me in the shins. I don't like to be kicked. It startles me. And it hurts."

Ice and Coco also made a rule when they first got married that they can never be apart for more than 24 hours. Let me repeat myself for those of you who just barfed all over your keyboard while reading that last line: THEY HAVE A RULE WHERE THEY CAN NEVER BE APART FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS.

Now I don't know about y'allzzzzzzzzz, but there is nothing I like more in this world than 24 hours without my wife. A few weeks ago, I took a road trip to State College and enjoyed three full hours of FM radio WITHOUT hearing Lady Goggs. Later, I had a milkshake from the Penn State creamery and took a 30 minute smash just because I could.

Now considering my wife is one of the seven people in this world who reads my blog, let me also make it clear that I'M YOKING HONEY! ... THIS IS ALL AN ACT FOR MY INTERNET FRIENDS ... I HONESTLY MISS YOU RIGHT NOW ... EVEN THOUGH AS I'M TYPING THIS YOU'RE SITTING IN THE OTHER ROOM, APPROXIMATELY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME, I STILL MISS YOU TERRIBLY ... EXCEPT I WASN'T YOKING ABOUT THE 30 MINUTE SMASH ... I WAS DEAD SERIOUS ABOUT THAT AND IT WAS SO, SO, SO ENJOYABLE ... IN FACT, I FOUND THIS AMAZING SMASH-DEN IN THE STUDENT UNION WHERE THERE WERE ZERO PEOPLE AROUND EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE FOREIGN GUY WHO WAS TALKING ON HIS CELLPHONE OUTSIDE IN THE HALLWAY, BUT HE DIDN'T BOTHER ME ... HE DIDN'T BOTHER ME AT ALL, DAR.

I really think it's nice that Ice T and Coco found one another. They seem to truly be in love. They support each other, make sacrifices for each other, cover themselves in bleu cheese dressing for each other. It's the perfect union between a rapper who used to have a ponytail and a woman who has the butt of a rhinoceros.

I can't believe how dumb this blog is.

I'm so, so, so terribly sorry.

If you've never checked out the gallery of Coco's Thong Thursday and Titty Tuesday pictures, then you're living a goddamn lie. You should spend a good 10-15 minutes looking at those right now. Unless you're at work. Thennnnnnnnnnn, look at this little baller selling iced tea like a boss.

Monday, April 16, 2012

And badminton, and boxing, archery and golf. So now hockey's like the 12th best sport, but then there's also ping pong.

Hockey's main problem throughout the years has been the fact that it is played, covered and followed by almost exclusively white people -- which we all know is a recipe for total disaster.

Take a look at this recent study done by the University of Flarbsdale:

But playoff hockey is COMPLETELY different.

For sixty minutes, grown-ass bearded men skate around on the slipperiest surface known to man and slash each other with wooden sticks.

So basically, it's no different from regular hockey, except the guys have beards.

In yesterday’s Flyers-Penguins game, a guy jumped into the air and blasted a guy's face with his shoulder and nothing was called. Later, another guy pulled a guy's hair in a fight and then scurried off the ice. One dude was penalized for “kneeing.” Seriously, "kneeing." That's a penalty. I don’t even think the refs know what’s going on out there.

Referee Bob Dildage: Hey Charlie, okay, I got #24, he’s going in the box because he slammed a dude’s face into the ice, that’s 2 minutes. And #18, he’s getting 2 minutes for ramming a knife in a guy's throat.

Referee Charlie Steinel: Hey, what about the guy who knee’d that other guy?

Referee Bob Dildage: Somebody knee’d someone?!?!?

Referee Charlie Steinel: Yeah.

Referee Bob Dildage: TWELVE MINUTES! … FOR KNEEING!

Steinel? That's not even a name!

Don’t be scared if you don’t actually know the rules. No one does. Yeah, some white people claim to understand offsides and 2-line passes, but there’s not one human being who can tell you what’s a penalty and what’s not.

If you want to fit in around the water cooler, you DO at least have to know some of the lingo. For part-time fans like me who got most of our hockey knowledge from Sega Genesis, it’s pretty easy: "wrister," "top shelf," "Boukeboom," but if you’re a chick who reads this blog and is still wondering when I’m going to get to the part about Ben Flajnik, just occassionally drop the words, “I’m Flyer’d up” from time to time and you'll be fine.

Only a white person could come up such a ridiculously dumb phrase and only white people could vocalize it 473 times a day and get more and more Flyer'd up every time they said it. During the playoffs, “I’m Flyer’d up” can also get you out of any socially awkward conversation.

My Boss: Hey uh, Evan, you said you were going to have those files on my desk by noon.

Me: Oh, sorry sir, I’m Flyer’d up. I’m totally Flyer’d up.

My Boss: They needed to be sent to the client last week.

Me: Aw man. Did you see Hoglerchuk last night? What an organyezaytion. I'm so Flyer'd up.

My Boss: You're a good employee, Donald.

What you know about the Shaolin Sword Style?

Adding to the drama of this particular playoffs is the fact that the Flyers have an actual black guy on their team. Yeah, seriously, like a real black guy. He’s named Wayne Simmonds and everyone calls him “Simmer.” I call him "Dominique Wilkins."

DID I MENTION THAT THE ENTIRE SPORT IS PLAYED ON ICE?!?!

I STILL PREFER PING PONG!

The next Flyers-Penguins game is this Wednesday night. I'm actually going to miss it because I'm going to a black fraternity / sorority step show at Temple University. It's either going to be the greatest night of my life or I'm going to get killed. I imagine you're hoping for the latter. Oh this? Nothin' much. Just some squirrels playing ping pong.

That's Whatsherface on the left! It doesn't even look like her! And what's so goddamn funny?!

As of now, the greatest acting performances in entertainment history are as follows:

1. Daniel Day Lewis as Christy "Lefty" Brown in My Left Foot

2. Vlade Divac vs. the Lakers in the 2002 NBA playoffs

3. Mario Lopez as Greg Louganis in the AC Slater Story*

*I never actually saw Mario's performance in this film, but I imagine it was SPOT ON.

Everything about this DVD cover is amazing.

But all that changed this past Sunday night, when a series of incredible acting displays were on displ-elevision ... they were on television. So let's check out the nominees for Best Actor on a Sunday Night in my Living Room.

Nominee #1: Me - Game of Frones and Mad Men

Acting is HARD. It really is. Not so hard that you have to freak out when you give an acceptance speech at an awards show, but hard enough that I respect actors abilities to pretend to be something they are not. I know this, because I won the Best Actor Award at the 2007 Boston 48 Hour Film Project had to act like I didn't have a boner the entire time that I sat next to my brother-in-law during Game of Frones and Mad Men.

You shoulda seen my performance! I was squirming, doing the ole duck & tuck, reaching for many, MANY blankets, just to keep him from seeing my ENORMOUS bone'ski.

When HBO flashes that little disclaimer on the screen before an episode, you know, "ADULT CONTENT, NUDITY, CLOSE CAPTIONING WHERE AVAILABLE," it should also read, "DO NOT WATCH WITH YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW AND HIS VERY NICE, INNOCENT, MATZOH-EATING GIRLFRIEND."

And the thing is, my brother-in-law is totally cool with boners (and so is his sister!) and perfectly accepting of my RIDONKULOUSLY HUGE healthy sexual appetite. But still, that show should NOT be viewed while sitting in such close proximity to the future Uncle of your children!

And what is going on with Game of Frones? That show is pure smutttttttttt.

First, that one guy doing'd that lady on the boat -- you know what lady I'm talking about -- the one with the gord-titties. Then, they quickly panned to a scene in a whorehouse where some guy was getting a hefferweizen while he watched some other guy doing'ing some prostitute. Then, the guy who doing'd the lady with the gord-titties totally fingerslorbed HIS SISTER (unbeknownst to him at the time) ON A HORSE! Thennnnnn, the Fire Lady pulled the ole Robe-a-dobe-disrobe-a-dobe and got doing'd on a table!

And this all happened in the hour before Joan got doing'd on Mad Men!

And I'm not supposed to borng a dornglorg?!?! ... (no idea ... no idea what I'm talking about.)

Holy guacamole!

Nominee #2: The Lady on the Horse - Game of Frones

Remember, actors are SERIOUS performers who like to hark back from experiences in their lives in order to play their role to the best of their abilities (while writers are total dorks who use phrases like "hark back" even though they're probably not using it correctly). So what must the conversation have been like when the director of Game of Frones gave her instructions on how to play that role?

DIRECTOR: Okay, Jessica, remember in this scene ...

HORSE LADY: It's Deborah.

DIRECTOR: Sorry, Debrubs.

HORSE LADY: Deborah.

DIRECTOR: Debruggs, when you're riding the horse, remember that you're in control of the situation, but you're also going to be getting fingered, soooooo ...

HORSE LADY: Sorry, what?

DIRECTOR: Yeah, when Marzliffius goes to finger you, he's gonna ...

HORSE LADY: I'm getting fingered?

DIRECTOR: Yeah, yeah, slight change in the script. Instead of you guys enjoying a nice leisurely ride through the countryside, he's gonna feel your titties and then finger you.

HORSE LADY: Isn't he my brother?

BROTHER: I'm not your brother in real life.

DIRECTOR: He's not your brother in real life.

BROTHER: I'm just an actor. So it's not like I'm gonna really be full throttle fingering you.

HORSE LADY: Yeah, but it's still gross.

DIRECTOR: Actually, I was hoping that you could really full throttle finger her. And Debruzz, is there any way you can think back to a time when maybe you were getting fingered, but you weren't quite into the guy ...

BROTHER: Like, you got fingered in high school, right? Did you ever get fingered by a guy who ...

HORSE LADY: How is he going to be fingering me on a horse?!?!

BROTHER: Oh there are ways.

ROLLIE: There are definitely ways.

HORSE LADY: Who are you?!

ROLLIE: I'm Rollie Fingers.

DIRECTOR: Big fan.

BROTHER: Me too. Big fan.

DIRECTOR: Love your mustache.

Ever notice that the Brewers logo is secretly an M and a B?

Nominee #3: Jon Hamm - Mad Men

Jon Hamm has tuberculosis.

He must.

That's the only way to explain his incredible performance as Don Draper with influenza. Yeah, yeah, I know the makeup artists helped him look pale and they slathered some vaseline on his chest, but that guy had tuberculosis, and he's going to die. I'm not talking about Don Draper here, I'm talking about Jon Hamm, the actual person. He's going to die. Soon. From tuberculosis. Well, at least he had a good run.

"I'll be your huckleberry." No idea what he was talking about. Must have been the T.B. talking.

Nominee #4: The Guy Who Plays Joan's Husband - Mad Men

This guy put in the performance of a lifetime, ACTING like he would rather go off to Vietnam than have sex with Joan. Now THAT'S acting. I don't know how he did it.

JOAN: Greg, I'm fine with you going to Vietnam. In fact, YOU CAN GO NOW!

GREG: What?! Are you serious?! You know what? Fine! I'm outta here! You don't understand, Joanie. You've never understood! Wait a minute wait a minute, cut, cut. Is this guy serious? Is he really leaving Joan? This wouldn't actually happen. This is ridicurous.

DIRECTOR: Ugh, yes, he really is. I told you, he feels wanted in the army.

GREG: But look at her jugs.

DIRECTOR: I know, I know.

GREG: I mean, there's no way anyone would leave this woman. Look at those jugs! Did you even look at them?

DIRECTOR: Yes, I looked at them.

GREG: I don't think you did!

DIRECTOR: Look, let's take it from the top. Remember, your character ...

GREG: I wanna have sex with her right now. That's what my character wants to do and that's what I want to do. Christina, I totally wanna have sex with you right now.

JOAN: Thanks guy who plays my husband, but I'm married.

GREG: So am I!

DIRECTOR: Let's take it from the top. Places!

PRODUCTION ASSISTANT: Scene 8 - Joan breaks up with the guy who plays her husband. Take 11.

JOAN: Greg, I'm fine with you going to Vietnam. In fact, YOU CAN GO NOW!

GREG: Let's have sex!

DIRECTOR: Cut!

Clearly, this guy is the big winner. Yeah, the writers on Mad Men will probably kill him off in 'Nam and we won't see him again until he appears as a rapist on Law & Order or Wizards of Waverly Place, but he deserves to be in Hollywood. Maybe even an opportunity to play Christy Brown in My Left Foot Two: The Search for My Other Foot ...

He goes blind.

It's very sad.

Next stop: Hollywood! ... Or Dollywood! ... Yeah, probably Dollywood.

I've got two great Twitter accounts for you to follow. First, @tejucole, who reads newspapers from 100 years ago and tweets the news as if it's currently happening. The Titanic just set sail yesterday. Next, you should follow @coffee_dad, who tweets about drinking coffee. Or, you could follow me @TVMWW, I tweet about absolutely nothing interesting. Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, you could check out these desert rivers in Mexico. Mind bottling.

Here's a picture of a banana car that my friend RJ saw driving down the street the other day. It's a banana, but it's also a car.

Just a group of Moroccan dudes attempting to buy plane tickets for their falcons. Not that big of a deal. Just the twenty falcons. Their feet are tied to posts.

Here's a guy and his dog going for a bike ride. So curious as to whether they're just going for a leisurely ride, or if they actually have a destination in mind. Like, "Yeah, I'm going to meet Leonard and his dog at the park, I think I'll bring Ruffles. Ruffles, wanna go to the park?" ... "Ruff!" ... "Okay boy, let's go!"

Probably the worst looking jump-shot I've ever seen. Is there anyway this shot even made it above the rim? Look at the trajectory on that jumper! And the knee pads? Oh girls' high school basketball ... at least Joe Giudice showed up to ref the game.

Happy Passover!

And Easter. I don't really know anything about Easter, but for those of you who like to decorate eggs and stuff, this looks kinda cool.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Over the past few days, I have been bombarded with angry emails from TVMWW readers upset with me for the lack of posts since Sunday's TV extravaganza.

Like these:

Hey Evster, I heard that your ole buddy Jed’s wife had a baby. I bumped into Melvin at the supermarket. He still has a mustache. See you on Saturday for Passover din-din? Love, - Your Mama

Oh my God, lady, relax! I’ll get to the posts when I get to them. Geez, this writing thing takes time. My Lord!

Evzie, can you pick up some Neosporin on your way home? I got a nasty cut on my finger and don’t want it to get infected. - Darrie

Dude, I’ve been busy at work! And the guy in the cubicle next to me always tells on me when I’m blogging instead of working. He’s such a slut!

Hey Ev, it’s Mom again … just writing to remind you to bring over an extra pair of underwear for Saturday night’s dinner. Last time you had Aunt Maxine’s brisket you shit all over yourself. Remember? And then you wiped your bare ass all over my carpet and got rug burn and used up all of my Neosporin. Gotta go, your father just shit himself. Love ya!

This stuff is gold, Jerry, GOLD!

So here we are, Wednesday afternoon, a mere 58 hours after Sunday’s blongo-bongo 4-hour television bonanza of the Killing, Game of Frones and Mab Membs. I’d love to be able to say that it took so long to write because I had to catch up on DVR, but I don’t have DVR and actually watched all three shows en vivo at my friends Larbage and Chicken’s house.

As a prominent television blogger in the television blog game, you’d think that I’d have DVR, but I don’t (and I’m not). But I realized something on Sunday night: as great as it is to record a show and leisurely watch it at a later date, it’s even greater to simply have the ability to pause a television.

The pause button is right up there with the greatest inventions in television history: high definition, ottomans, nachos, antioxidants, Breathe Rights®, various types of exciting underwear, dish towels, corn syrup ... but the pause button tops them all!

During Game of Frones,the pause button was most beneficial, because quite frankly I don't ever know what's going on during that show.

ME: All right, so hold up, who's that guy and why is he brainwashed by that Fire Lady?

MY WIFE: That's Varslyphius. He's Lord Brantheon's brother.

ME: Right. Who's Lord Brantheon?

MY WIFE: He's the leader of the Gallsippius's house.

ME: Oh, yeah yeah yeah. I know, I know that. I love the Gallsipperlus. They're like my favorite guys. But why is he following the Fire Lady?

MY WIFE: She's a reignslorver.

ME: Obviously. Obviously she's a layneslorber. You can tell by her cloak. But why is he writing that letter?

MY WIFE: Ugghhh, because of Lord Gramleon's brother!

ME: Oh oh oh oh, okay okay okay. I was just confused for a sec, because I thought that other guy was the king.

MY WIFE: Joffrey is the king. But he's not the rightful heir to the throne and Lord Gammelbon knows that. He's really the incestual child of Cersie and Jamie Lannister!

ME: Right, right. What show are we watching?

This happened pretty much every ten minutes for the duration of the show, and by the end of the program, I totally understood about 3/8ths of what I saw.

That's a pretty nice frone!

I'll tell ya what I do understand: the opening theme song, and how awesome it is. It gets me so hype, I just wanna chop someone's head off (or sing along to it). Chicken made up some lyrics to go with the intro, “It’s a game of frones and there are kings and there are swords and there are dragons and there are swords and there are other swords. And there’s a wall and there’s some wolves and there’s some frones.” It’s a really good song.

The whole scene when Joffrey ordered everybody to kill the king's bastard children was riveting. I’m not gonna say that I wanted to see that baby’s throat get slit, but there was a second when I was thinking, “Wow, I definitely wanna see that baby's throat get slit.” It reminded me of that scene in Star Wars Attack of the Clones when they killed all those Jedis. It also reminded me of that time I did shrooms and thought I saw a guy kill a baby. I also don’t know who Joffrey is.

During the Killing, the pause button allowed us to stop, piece the clues together and share our theories on who we thought the killer was. I think it's Lord Grantheon! While Chicken gave us her thoughts, the conversation soon switched to discuss some of our mutual friends behind their backs. So that was nice.

The Killing was definitely the highlight of the evening. Going into Sunday, I could’ve cared less about Rosie Larson, but by the end of that 4-hour marathon, I was totally sucked back in. I was also no longer wearing underwear. At about the 3-hour mark, I paused the TV and said I had to go to the bathroom, where I secretly took off my boxers and stuffed them in my shoe.

Look at Detective Dickpants from back in the day!

Despite the Killing’s born-in intrigue, the show does have its faults. Like when the wanna-be mayor guy got shot, WHY DID HIS SHOE FALL OFF? I have never been shot, but I’m pretty sure that your shoe doesn’t fall off when you do. Law thought that mayyyyyyyyybbbeeeee, because Darren Richmond was walking out of the police department when he got shot, that his shoes could’ve been untied considering they make you take your shoes off when you go to jail. And when he slipped them back on, he didn't take the time to tie them.

But he’s a wanna-be mayor for freak’s sake! Tie your shoes, dude!

Mad Men was quite frankly another snoozefest, although we did pause it quite a bit to debate what was going on with fat Betty. My wife knew that January Jones was 8 months preggers when they filmed, but she kept insisting that the makeup artists added fake skin to her face to make her look heavier. I told her that was ridiculous (but not to her face -- I'd only tell her that in the comfort of my own blog).

Whether or not they added fake skin to Betty (they didn't), I'm pretty sure that when she got outta the tub – hello side boob! – they definitely used a stunt double.

And how relaxing did that bathtub look?!?!

I’m 34 years old, own a home in the suburbs, but I never take baths. Part of the reason is because I never think to draw a bath and the other is because our bathtub is so old and so pink. Do people in 2012 still take baths? And if so, is your life SO MUCH better than mine? I LOVE BATHS. The water, the smells, the pruning, the fear of dropping the radio in and killing yourself, the fear of having your wife come in and see you attempting to pee into the toilet from the tub, the fear of her then finding you splashing water on the tiles to cover up your own piss, it’s exhilarating!

That's a fake shoulder!

Did Matthew Weiner really have to make that Jew character the most Jewy guy of all time? Quirky, funny, wimpy, annoying, his father talking about baseball and reciting a Hebrew prayer when he got home? C’MON WEINER!

All in all, it was a very exciting night that was made better because of an ancient invention that allows you to stop time and get a snack. And yet, I don’t get to take advantage of that invention because I’m too lazy to go to Comcast and exchange my cable box.

I also gotta save some money to redo my bathroom.

IT’S SO THERAPEUTIC!

Kind of cute, but kind of filthy and disgusting!

If you wanna listen to a pretty good Fresh Air interview with Mad Men creator, Matthew Weiner, click here. Or you could listen to one with Aziz Ansari here. Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, you could check out these nice photos of people riding bikes.